


Bread with Joy

by Mira



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-05
Updated: 2010-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-05 21:04:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mira/pseuds/Mira





	Bread with Joy

_I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all. Ecclesiastes 9:11_

Sean said, "It was like something was sitting on my chest, right here, that's my sternum, right? Right here, man, Lij, I'm telling you, it was so heavy and I couldn't breathe and I was so fuckin' scared . . ." His voice trailed off and he stared at Elijah as if Elijah could make it better.

"Sean," Elijah finally said, reaching under Sean's elven cloak to grasp his elbow. "Snap out of it. There's nothing on your chest. You're in great health; you know that. Dude, you just ran a fuckin' marathon a few months ago." He gently shook Sean's arm. "It's okay." He stared back at Sean; they were of a height, standing very near, and he willed his certainty to beam into Sean's brain and heart and soul. "It's okay," he whispered. "Promise. Do I lie?"

Sean slowly shook his head. "Never. You've never lied to me."

"Okay." He dropped Sean's elbow but wrapped his arms around Sean, hugging him. After a few seconds, Sean hugged him back. "Trust me. Take a deep breath. Come on, do it." He inhaled mightily, and then slowly exhaled, listening as Sean did the same.

"Better," Sean breathed, and Elijah began to relax.

"Sweet," he said, releasing Sean. He put out a fist and they tapped knuckles.

"Hey, guys," Dom called; he was juggling two apples. "Billy says Bean's beating Vig at chess."

"Shit, I could beat Vig at chess," Elijah said, knowing it would make Sean laugh. He took off after Dom. "C'mon, Seanie. You can give Vig some pointers."

"He never listens to me," Sean complained, but Elijah could hear him following.

Dom gave Elijah a look, the raised eyebrow look of exasperation that he was coming to know too well. "Shut up," he said.

"Didn't say a bleedin' thing," Dom protested, but he tossed one of the apples to Elijah, who bit into it happily.

"Well, just don't," he said through a mouthful of juice. "Or I'll tell Billy." Elijah enjoyed the look on Dom's face, of embarrassment but also pride. He wondered about Dom and Billy's relationship; it had evolved so quickly, right in front of his eyes. He was a little jealous, when he was honest with himself, which he tried always to be. Jealous of how much fun they had. He heard Sean behind him and slowed a bit, letting Dom bound ahead.

"Do you think Vig's really playing chess with Sean?" Sean asked him, breathing heavily.

"If he is, he's an idiot," Elijah said. Sean fancied himself something of a chess king and Elijah enjoyed watching him analyze games, trying to guess what the next moves would be.

"He's an idiot," Sean said, but the tone was pure admiration. Well, Elijah admired Viggo, too; how not? A man's man, and a lady's man, too. Plus: tall.

They came around a storage trailer to find a knot of cast and crew quietly but intently watching Sean and Viggo hunched over a low table. Elijah didn't really get chess. It was too slow, and he found it visually boring. He preferred video games with screeching virtual cars or battles with freakazoid creatures from another universe.

Still, watching Sean and Viggo do anything together was a pleasure. He let his Sean elbow their way into the crowd; Sean put an arm around him and they leaned together. Sean was warm, a little sweaty, just perfect on this chilly, breezy day. His own heater, Elijah had called him more than once. Sean had blushed and blamed the weight he'd had to put on, but Elijah was always welcome in his arms.

Elijah saw that most of the pieces on the board were gone, which meant the game was nearing an end. Beyond that, he wasn't qualified to comment. Next to him, Sean concentrated on the action, his lips moving silently. Already bored, Elijah looked around them.

Dom and Billy huddled together, Billy whispering into Dom's ear. They were wearing their big blue raincoats, Bill practically swimming in his. But his eyes were merry and every now and then Dom laughed quietly. When they glanced at each other, Elijah saw how little they were paying attention to the rest of the world. They certainly were not interested in chess at the moment. Then Billy rested his head against Dom's shoulder and fell quiet.

A few orcs clustered around the table, commenting in their Kiwi and Aussie accents that Elijah still had some trouble deciphering. Brett was there, too, arms crossed, looking very Dwarvish as he watched. He winked at Elijah, though, making him smile.

Then Orlando wove his way through the orcs, blue kerchief tied around Legolas' hair. He stood behind Viggo, staring at either the chessboard or the back of Viggo's head. Elijah thought the latter was more likely, and felt a surge of satisfaction when Orlando gently rested his hands on Viggo's shoulders, squeezing them.

Viggo looked up to gave Orlando a distracted smile, then returned his attention to the board. Sean Bean sat back suddenly and crossed his arms, and Elijah realized that he must be close to winning. He also realized that Sean, his Sean, was gazing at Orlando and no longer paying attention to the game. He nudged Sean, frowning at him. "It's cool," he whispered. Sean appeared to ignore him, but returned his focus to the game.

Viggo sighed heavily. "I don't see my way out, Sean," he murmured; Elijah could barely make out his words. "It's like peering through a mist." He leaned back and stretched. "I concede."

"Vig, you don't 'concede' in chess," Bean chided him, but then Elijah became aware of Sean. He was trembling, almost vibrating, and when Elijah followed his gaze, he realized he was continuing to look at Orlando, who still had his hands on Viggo's shoulders, massaging them.

Bean continued his lecture, but Elijah gently turned Sean away. "Let's go," he whispered. "He'll be at it all night." Sean obediently moved away, but he twisted his head back and continued to stare longingly at Orlando and Viggo, letting Elijah lead them. "Come on," Elijah insisted, trying to draw Sean's attention away from Orlando. "I need coffee."

Only when they were well away from the chess game did Sean's attention return to Elijah, who was annoyed but refused to show it. Elijah tried to think of something to talk about that wouldn't upset Sean, but he was at a loss. Their next scene? Sean would only complain that they didn't know what their next scene would be, that the schedule was perpetually fucked. The scenery? He'd bitch about the lack of amenities. Family? No, Elijah definitely didn't want to go there. Sometimes he wondered how happy Sean and Christine were.

Finally he sighed. "Got your Gameboy, gameboy? Cos I can so kick your ass."

"Easy enough to do when it's this big," Sean grumbled and Elijah nearly despaired, but Sean picked up his styrofoam cup and headed toward the trailers where their shit was stored. Thank you, God, Elijah said silently. One more hurdle jumped.

How many more?

~ ~ ~

_Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither thou goest. Ecclesiastes 9:10_

Elijah watched as Christine sank to her knees before Sean, resting her hands on his thighs. He saw her mouth move, and knew her well enough to know what she was saying. "It's okay, honey," he whispered under his breath. "It's okay, I promise."

"What's okay?" Viggo said, and Elijah jumped.

"Nothing. Everything."

Viggo handed Elijah an apple, staring down at him. Don't say anything else, Elijah thought up at him. Not a word. At last, Viggo said, "You fish?"

"Only when acting."

"Wanna learn?"

Elijah looked up at him in surprise, apple halfway to his mouth. "Seriously? Yeah. I mean, I'll suck -- worms, hooks, fish guts -- but yeah, I'd love to go. Wow." He couldn't believe Viggo was asking him to go fishing with him.

Viggo began eating the core of his own apple. "Cool. Bunch of us are going. Dom and Billy, too."

"Sean?"

Viggo looked sad. "Bean's back in the UK for a while. Lost my best fishin' buddy."

"So us hobbits'll have to do." He watched as Viggo smiled and finally looked at him.

"Till Bean gets back. Or one of you emerges as a fisherman."

"Dom might. He's good at shit like that."

"He is, indeed."

"Can I -- are you gonna ask Sean? My Sean, I mean."

Viggo looked again at where Sean and Christine were huddled together. Sean's head was bowed, resting on Christine's shoulder where she crouched before him. "Should I? Might drive Mister Monaghan even crazier than he already is."

"Your fishing party," Elijah said politely, sorry he'd asked. Because Viggo was right. Sean would drive Dom crazy; he'd drive them all crazy. But he'd be crazy if not asked, too. Talk about a lose-lose situation. Elijah shook his head, and wiped the apple juice from his chin.

"Your friend," Viggo finally said. "Ask him. Or I will. It'll be okay."

Elijah stared at the Astins. "You think so, Vig? Really, truly?"

Viggo's arm came around his shoulders, so Elijah leaned against him for a moment. "Really, truly."

Elijah nodded. "Thanks. I will ask him. And I'll, uh, you know. Talk to him. Before." And to Dom, too, he added silently. And Billy. Then something occurred to him. "Is Orlando coming with?"

But Viggo was gone, striding through the bush like Aragorn. Only the apple in Elijah's hand was left of him.

Oh Sean, Elijah thought, sighing. How will we get through this? How will you get Frodo to Mordor?

Not a question he could really ask Sean.

He watched as Christine rose, rubbing her knees. She caught sight of Elijah and smiled wearily, then beckoned him over. "Hey," she said, and kissed his cheek. "You taste like apple."

He handed her the apple and she took a delicate bite before returning it. "Seanie?" Elijah asked, looking down at his friend. He held the apple out. Several seconds passed before Sean returned his look. Then he wrapped his larger hand around Elijah's and bit deeply into the apple. Juice spilled onto both their hands, and Sean licked the drops away. Elijah smiled.

"I'll leave you two," Chris said. She kissed Sean on the top of his wig, and waved goodbye to Elijah.

"Where's she off to?" Elijah asked, taking another bite of the apple.

"Pick up Ali, then home. Not home-home."

"Come on, dude. You can't think like that. The world's your home, you know?" Elijah spread his arms wide and looked straight up at the serene sky. The air smelled of pine needles and resin and some highly-charged, almost electrical scent that seemed to Elijah to be unique to New Zealand. How could Sean not rejoice in every moment spent under this southern sky? Sighing, he dropped his arms, almost losing the apple.

"East, west, home's best," Sean said, but he rose and smiled at last at Elijah, who held out the apple again.

"Wanna kill it?"

Sean again took Elijah's hand, this time with both of his, cupping the apple to his mouth. Elijah felt Sean's breath on his damp, stick hands, and felt his soft lips as he closed his mouth around the apple. "Thanks, Lij," he said when he'd swallowed, and released Elijah.

"Let's walk," Elijah said, and led Sean away from the crew and cabling and tents and trailers, deeper into the forest. Of course, they couldn't get too far away; just a couple of football fields away another unit was shooting, and beyond them yet another. But when Elijah could hear their feet crushing pine needles, he stopped and looked at Sean.

At first, Sean refused to meet his eyes, but slowly he raised them. Sean had waxed rhapsodic about Elijah's eyes; everyone did. It was boring. But Sean had lovely eyes, a warm hazel-y brown, and Elijah loved the way his skin crinkled when he smiled. He reached up to touch Sean's face. "Babes," he said softly. "Do you know how much I worry about you?"

Sean blushed, but Elijah kept his hand on Sean's face. "Yeah," he said finally. "I'm sorry. I know, it's just, like, breathless, you know? Crushed. Scared." Elijah could barely hear the last word.

"I know. We all are. We just, like, hide it, you know? Hide it from each other, and even from ourselves. It's not just acting. Everybody has to do it. To get through." Sean nodded but remained silent. "I want to help you. I do. But you gotta work with me."

Sean turned away but only a bit, and shrugged. "What do you want from me, Elijah? I'm doing the best I can. I just think --" His stopped, and Elijah saw how near tears he was.

"You're afraid you're having a nervous breakdown. I get that, Sean. I know about your mom. You've told me. But she managed, and so will you. Don't you know how many people love you?" Sean turned even farther away, but Elijah followed him, insisting that Sean meet Elijah's eyes. "Tell me. Babes. Come on. You love to talk, so talk."

Sean laughed at that, and Elijah relaxed a little. If Sean could only laugh at himself more often. "I know," he finally said. "I'm an idiot. I know what you're going to say."

"What'm I gonna say?"

"That not everyone is gonna love everyone else. That I can't expect to be universally loved and respected. That some things work and some things don't and I shouldn't get my knickers in a twist when they don't."

Elijah snickered. "Knickers. You've been hangin' with the Brits too long, my lad. Get your _panties_ in a twist. Wait, that's not right either," but he was teasing Sean now, who smiled back at him. He tossed away the apple core and rubbed Sean's shoulder.

"Eww," Sean said. "Wiping your sticky hobbit fingers on my nice elven cloak."

"Listen," Elijah said daringly. "I want you to lighten up. Okay, Sean? Promise?"

"Yes, dad."

"No, seriously. Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you'll cut everybody some slack, especially you? I need to hear this from you, Sean." He stared into Sean's eyes, willing him to be honest.

Sean sighed heavily, and rubbed his mouth. "I can promise to try," he finally said.

Elijah shook his head. "No, man. Not try; do."

They stared at each other, and Elijah thought they could have been alone in the wilds of the world, thousands of miles from the world's biggest movie ever made, just the two of them, solitary in the wastelands. Sean dropped his eyes. "With your help," he murmured. "Not sure I can do this by myself."

Elijah hugged him. "No need to," he whispered. "That's why God and Pete put us together. We're a team, Sean. We can do this." Sean held him so tightly that Elijah wondered if he'd ever let him go. "Don't be afraid," he whispered.

"I'm not," Sean said. Elijah leaned back, curious to see Sean's eyes. "It's that --" He stopped, shaking his head, but Elijah refused to let him go. Slowly, Sean said, "It's hard. We're all so tired. I think maybe something bad will happen if I don't watch out. For everyone."

"So only you watching out for us keeps us safe?"

Sean blushed. "Sounds stupid," he mumbled, but Elijah hugged him again.

"No, it doesn't. Superstitious, maybe, but not stupid. You love. That's what you do best: You love. And you worry about the people you love. But you need to trust them, too. Just a little."

"Chris says I should listen to you," he said as he released Elijah.

"I say you should listen to Chris." They smiled at each other. "Hey, listen, if you think, if you'd like, you wanna go fishin' with me and Vig? And the other hobbits and an elf, too?"

Elijah watched Sean's face as his feelings washed over it like clouds over water. Say yes, say yes, he thought as hard as he could, and relaxed when Sean smiled. "Well, since you're going."

"Like I'd let you go alone." Elijah slung his arm around Sean's waist and began tugging him back toward the chaos of the set. He hated to leave the relative peace they'd shared, but Caro would be shouting for them soon, and they were here to make a movie.

~ ~ ~

_Live joyfully with the wife whom thou lovest all the days of the life of thy vanity. Ecclesiastes 9:9_

Christine answered the door in her fluffy blue robe, her face damp and her eyes red. Elijah hugged her tightly and let her cry into his neck for a moment before she pulled back and fumbled a kleenex from her pocket to wipe her face and dab at her nose. "Sorry," she murmured, sniffing. "Thank you so much --"

"No, it's okay," he told her, closing the door. "Friends for life, remember?"

She smiled weakly at him. "I'll make coffee. You know the way."

He nodded, and went down the hallway, wondering what he'd find. It was so early that the stars were still out and the streetlights still on; driving over had been surreal. So few hours, such hard work, and now this.

He passed the door to little Ali's room, closed but for a finger's width, enough to let the hall light in and keep away the monsters. Then he stood outside Sean and Christine's bedroom door. Tightly shut, because the monsters were already there.

He didn't knock, just twisted the knob and went inside. Light from the hallway that fell across the carpeted floor in a yellow swath let him see that Sean lay on his stomach, his face pushed into a pillow, covers pulled high. At first Elijah just stood by the bed, staring down at it. They had to be in Feet in an hour, with a long day ahead of them. And he was already so tired.

He kicked off his unlaced running shoes, pulled back the covers, and climbed into the bed, lining his body up next to Sean's. He wriggled and squirmed a bit until he was lying on his side facing Sean. Then he gently lifted a corner of the pillow over Sean's head.

Sean's face was scarlet, from embarrassment and tears. Elijah felt his own face contract with pain for his friend's pain. Why was Sean like this? Why couldn't he see how brilliant these times were? Elijah had talked privately with Christine, who had told him more about Sean's mom, and God knows he and Sean had talked endlessly, but no answer seemed adequate to explain this heavy, anxious misery.

Elijah left most of the pillow over Sean's head, just cleared enough away so he could see his face. Then he rested his hand on Sean's jaw and very gently shook it. "Hey," he whispered. "Dude. Allay my fears, okay?"

Sean shut his eyes even tighter, and his lips trembled. Elijah felt guilty for noticing that, with Sam's weight, Sean had jowls, and that they quivered, too.

What am I supposed to do? he thought. He was a little angry at Christine for rousing him from his bed, and he was a lot angry at Sean for his behavior. I'm only a kid, he thought. I should be doing kid things, not taking care of -- But he wasn't taking care of anything or anyone, lying here with his thoughts twisting like Ringwraiths. He stifled a heavy sigh, lifted his head slightly, and gently kissed Sean on the lips.

As he expected, Sean's eyes popped open almost comically. "Elijah!" he whispered hoarsely. His nose was running, so Elijah rolled onto his back, plucking a tissue from the box on the night table, and then held it under Sean's nose. He turned even redder, but took the kleenex and wiped his nose. "Jesus. What are you doing?"

"Getting you up. Time to hit the hobbit mines, Sean. No sleeping in on a work day."

"Oh, God," Sean groaned, and turned his face into the bed.

"No," Elijah said, a little surprised at how cold his voice sounded. "I mean it. You have a responsibility. To yourself and your family -- if you fuck this up, Sean, you know you'll never work again. And you have a responsibility to Peter and Fran. If anything happens to Sam, the movie will die. They can't start over, not now.

"And you have a fucking great responsibility to _me_," he added firmly. "I mean it. I thought your job was to take care of me? Where's Sam now?"

Sean sniffed, but turned his head back. Elijah thought if he turned any redder he might stroke out. Sean sighed and pushed himself into a sitting position, Elijah following. "I know you're right," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I just need --"

Whatever he needed, Elijah never learned. Sean wiped his face with the increasingly ratty kleenex and then climbed from the bed. Elijah sat back against the headboard and watched as he dressed. He was going to talk to Christine about getting Sean to a doctor. And Pete needed to stop force-feeding him like a foie gras goose; the stress on Sean's heart from the weight and his fears about it were going to kill him.

Elijah studied Sean's body objectively. He was only ten years older than Elijah, still young, and his skin glimmered in the milk-pale pre-dawn light. They hadn't turned on any lights in the bedroom, but Sean's clothes were neatly piled in a chair next to the dresser. He changed his sleep boxers for briefs and tossed the tee-shirt he'd been wearing into a hamper. His ass was round but high and firm. Age hadn't yet touched him, and not even his weight disfigured him; it was stress and fear deforming him.

Elijah actually liked Sean's round belly. He found it very hobbit-like and enjoyed leaning against it during the day. Dom and Orlando were bony, and even Billy felt fragile in Elijah's arms. Viggo's hugs were good but invariably turned into tickling or wrestling matches. Bean gave great hugs, maybe because he was a dad, but he was with them so little and dispensed them rarely. Elijah liked best to be hugged by Sean and was happy that most of their scenes were together.

But each day added to Sean's fears -- it was though he were drowning and Elijah could only watch from the canoe. No matter how many hugs Elijah offered, how much advice, how many diversions, Sean continued to focus on himself, on his insecurity and his jealousy. That he was so open and honest about it all broke Elijah's heart, again and again and again, even as it irritated him.

When Sean was dressed, Elijah rolled out of the bed and stood next to him. They both stared into the mirror above the dresser. Seen in the light from the hall, Sean's face was still red, but less so; his eyes were swollen and damp, the lashes clumped together with drying tears. Elijah put his arms around Sean's waist and rested his head against Sean's shoulder. Sean smiled, weak and watery, but real, and hugged him. "Thanks. Sorry."

"Don't do it again, bro."

Elijah pulled away first, towing Sean behind him, linking their fingers as he pulled him down the hall. Chris waited for them, her hands crossed and holding tightly to the shawl collar of her robe. "Oh, honey," she said, but didn't move toward Sean. He squeezed Elijah's hand, let go, and hugged her fiercely.

"I'm sorry," Elijah heard him whisper. "I don't mean to do this to you guys."

"It's okay," Christine told him. Elijah nodded, trying to look confident when Christine met his eyes.

"I'll make sure he's okay," he said.

Sean turned to face him, keeping a tight hold on Christine. "Thanks," he said again, "Sorry," and Elijah knew he'd be hearing that all day.

"Come on. Gotta hit the road, Astin."

"Here's your coffee, and Elijah, here's a mug for you. Careful, it's hot." She kissed first Sean, then Elijah. "Be good."

"As good as we can," Elijah joked, trying to match her casual tone. He led the way to his little car. He was proud of how quickly he had learned to drive on the left and didn't even hesitate; he climbed into the driver's seat without having to think about it. When Sean was belted in, Elijah started the car and headed toward the set. "What's on for today?"

Sean shrugged. "Like you can trust the schedule."

"Well, let's pretend we can trust the schedule. What's on?"

"Uh." He looked in the backseat, where stacks of papers and mounds of fast-food trash jiggled as they wove through the city. Elijah knew there was a spiral bound notepad of blue paper buried in there. Sean teased it out from the rubbish, flipped through it, and said, "Leaving the Shire. That's all I know."

Elijah felt the need for a cigarette roll through him like a muscle spasm.

After they were suited up and footed up, made up and clothed, they piled into Toyotas and Land Rovers and were driven to Otaki, a city near Wellington. On location, cameras and cables and lights were already set up when they arrived, but as always, there also were long stretches with nothing to do but run lines, block the scenes, and even worse, ponder the meaning of life.

Billy and Dom were brilliant at inventing games to pass the time. Sean would read, or try to persuade someone to play chess with him. Elijah just waited.

He was good at it, he knew. He'd been told that many times in his career. Billy was actually good at waiting, too, but Dom jittered and twitched with restless energy, his grey eyes seeking out diversion anywhere, and he drew Billy along. Just watching them could be entertainment enough. Today, however, after the difficult start to his and Sean's morning, Elijah wasn't in the mood for his brother hobbits' foolishness. He didn't need entertainment; he needed solace.

When he realized that the next setup would take an unusually long time, he walked away from the hullabaloo, heading into the forest. He knew it was just a small strip, not very wide but, like being deep in Central Park, it had the feel of something much larger and far away. For a while, he could hear Dom and Billy chanting something -- about footie? -- and Caro arguing with someone and the various motors of the equipment whirring and chugging, but they were quickly absorbed by the thick duff beneath his hobbit feet and the stringy pine-looking trees around him.

He took a deep breath. Ever since he'd learned that trees produced oxygen, he had believed that the scent from them was that of pure, brand-new, never-before-breathed air. He inhaled again, closing his eyes. He couldn't hear any of the noise of the production from here. He couldn't believe that Otaki was nearby, and Wellington only an hour away. He felt some of the tension from this morning leave him, his shoulders relaxing. He would have liked a smoke, but it seemed irreverent to smoke here, in the presence of these trees. Like Gimli with his ax in Fanghorn, he wanted to appease them, not antagonize them.

Something rustled behind him, and he turned to see Sean leaning against the rough bark of a tree, idly picking at it. "Time to go back?" Elijah asked.

Sean shook his head, watching his fingers on the tree. "No. Not yet."

Elijah looked up, tilting his head back so far it hurt, staring up past the trees into the sky. The blue was different here. He'd heard it was because of the depletion of the ozone layer in the southern hemisphere; whatever the reason, the sky was a depthless blue.

"Pretty color," Sean said.

"Yeah. An impossible color. Limitless."

"A Kantian blue."

He looked back at Sean. "Is that like Prussian blue?"

"No." They smiled at each other, and Sean stepped toward him. "You said limitless. I meant, beyond the limits of knowledge and experience."

Elijah looked back up at the sky. "Yeah," he murmured at last. "Kantian blue." He felt Sean behind him and, without hesitation, leaned back, knowing that Sean would be there.

And he was, as solid as Sam, his arms going around Elijah's middle, his chin resting on Elijah's shoulder. Together, they stared up at the sky. Sean's breath was warm and moist on Elijah's ear, and his wig tickled Elijah's neck. He thought again how easy it was to stand like this, relying on Sean for physical comfort.

Far above them, the tops of the trees moved in an unfelt wind, and he could hear them surging, sighing like the sea. He rested his hands on Sean's. Leaves' shadows played over his face, sunlight alternating with their shade, and suddenly a bird shot past them, something small and blue, as if a piece of the sky had broken off.

He felt Sean kiss his neck and turned his head until he could meet Sean's lips. They kissed lightly, teasingly, lips and tongue playing; it felt natural and right. More than right; it felt necessary. He knew he was comforting Sean; he knew Sean was comforting him.

When Sean pulled back and opened his mouth to speak, Elijah turned in his arms and put a hand over Sean's mouth, sliding it away only to cover his lips with his own. He kissed Sean passionately this time, telling him without words that it was time to be quiet. Sean's tongue in his mouth was all the communication Elijah needed.

Much later, from far away, Elijah heard shouting, and knew that he and Sean were being summoned back. This time when they parted, Sean remained silent, though his eyes were enormous. Then he began to smile at Elijah, a slow smile that grew and grew, his sweet smile that crinkled his eyes, and Elijah could only smile back at him.

Elijah took Sean's hand and led him back toward the others. They had wandered farther than he'd realized and Caro was pulling out the bullhorn when they finally stepped into the clearing where the shot was set up. He felt the others' eyes on them but kept a firm hold on Sean's hand. Pete watched them, his eyes unreadable behind his large glasses, and even Caro stepped back. Elijah knew his mark, and he knew Sean's, so he led them there.

"Sorry, boss," he said to Pete, who smiled and nodded. The set was suddenly noisy again as others scurried into place, the focus puller scrambling into position, Andrew smiling beneath his floppy hair.

"Where you been?" Dom asked him as he knelt behind them.

Elijah shrugged. "Same as you," he said. "Doing what actors do best: killing time."

Billy snickered and Sean took a deep breath, but fortunately Pete began to talk and not even Sean would interrupt Pete.

~ ~ ~

_Eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine with a merry heart. Ecclesiastes 9.7_

Elijah squirmed in his seat. He was tired of sitting, tired of being on display, yet they had weeks more ahead of them. The premieres were exhilarating and exhausting, wildly rewarding to him as an actor and utterly depressing as a young man. All these people screaming for him, but not him, not really -- for some image they'd cobbled together in their head, made of bits from magazines and television interviews and all his movies they'd seen. Orlando had been close to freaking out; Elijah thought he and Viggo had been able to help a bit, and helping Orlando had grounded Elijah as well.

But he wanted out. He wanted silence, dark, solitude. Well, he could want the moon; it didn't mean he'd get it. Not even with this movie opening to such popular and critical acclaim.

What he wanted, he thought, was to go skinny-dipping again.

He wiggled, trying to get comfortable, but Mark was leaning over two rows to whisper to him, "Where's Sean?"

Elijah looked around, as if Sean were right there but Mark couldn't see him. Where was Sean? "Didn't know it was my turn to keep tabs," he said, trying for flip but achieving only surly. "I'll check the men's room," he added. It would be an excuse to stand up and stretch.

He worked his way down the row, goosed first by Billy and then by Dom, swatting at their hands, trying not to draw even more attention to himself but knowing he was failing. Viggo nodded at him from where he sat with Henry and Bean, and back one aisle was Ian, wearing a very dashing hat tilted nearly over one eye. Elijah tapped the hat as he passed, and Ian winked at him.

The press of bodies was hot and sweaty, and the smell of too many conflicting perfumes and aftershaves, of damp wool and hairspray, of humanity threatened to gag him. And they still had Japan to get to. He feared that. So many people in such a small place.

"Hi, hello," he murmured as he slowly worked his way to the men's room. "Excuse me, sorry, yes, it's lovely, brilliant, thanks, excuse me." He was happy to push the door open and find it mostly empty. Two stall doors were shut and one man stood in front of a sink, combing his hair. Elijah thought he recognized him and smiled his vague please-don't-bother-me smile.

"Sean?" he called softly. "Buddy?"

"Lij?"

"Yeah. You okay?" To his surprise, one of the doors opened a bit. Sean peered out, looking as exhausted as Elijah felt, his eyes swollen and red. "Shit." Elijah glanced at the man at the sink, who was avidly watching them in the mirror. Well, fuck it. He pushed at the door, forcing Sean back, and then shut it behind them. "What the hell?"

Sean sat on the toilet and put his head in his hands. "So fucking tired, Lij," he whispered; he was aware of the others in the restroom, too. "Just."

"Hey, hey." Elijah rested a hand on the back of Sean's neck, rubbing firmly. He bent over and said softly into Sean's ear, "I know. But we gotta do this. We're contractually obligated. Besides, it's fun." Sean looked at him in disbelief, and Elijah had to giggle a bit. "Okay, not fun."

"Not fun. Torture," Sean agreed, but a corner of his mouth twitched.

"Call Amnesty International. It's just started. We've got two more years of this."

That was the wrong thing to say. "Shit, Lij. How we gonna do this? I can't -- I can't breathe. I can't hear myself think."

Elijah knelt, balancing on his heels, trying not to touch the toilet stall's floor. "We just do, Sean. You know that. You've been in the business a long time."

"But the fucking walls are closing in, Lij. I can't breathe. It's like, it's like I'm wrapped in that carpet again, in the closet, the door shut, and there's no light or air or chance to escape."

"Shh, shh." Elijah knew from experience that he needed to stop Sean now, before he worked himself into a real state. Sean couldn't do that here, not tonight. "You're not there anymore, Sean. You're all grown up. You're fine. Besides, I'm here. I'll kick the ass of anyone who tries anything."

Sean rubbed his face and dropped his hands. He looked so sad to Elijah, who stroked the thick brown curls off his forehead. "I don't know what to do," he finally said, and Elijah watched with growing dismay as tears filled Sean's soft eyes.

Elijah nodded, and took a deep breath. "You know what I was just thinking of?" Sean shook his head disinterestedly. "Skinny-dipping. Remember?" Sean blushed, and Elijah poked his knee. "Come on, bro. Tell me."

"On South Island. I forget where. It was so hot."

"That's right. Broiling. We had to carry those fucking umbrellas everywhere, cos God forbid Frodo should tan."

Sean nodded, a tiny smile beginning to curl his lips. "Even when the sun went down, it was still so hot. I felt sorry for the costumers; our clothes stank."

"Jesus, did they. I didn't know hobbits sweated; did you?"

"Course they do! Sam's gaffer taught him to put in an honest day's work, I'll have you know," Sean responded in Sam's voice, looking affronted.

Elijah's heart lifted a bit. "Oh, and did Sam's gaffer teach him to skinny-dip with the other hobbit lads?"

Sean blushed even more. "I'm sure even the gaffer was naughty, back in the day," he countered with dignity.

"It was nice," Elijah sighed, resting his back against the stall. His knees were uncomfortable from crouching, but he didn't want to break this moment. He closed his eyes and pictured them back there. He'd been delighted to shed his sweaty hobbit clothes and pull on shorts and a tee-shirt and his Tevas. They'd been filming near a lake and it had gleamed as cool as an ice cube nestled in the golden grasses. He'd been drawn to it, and unsurprised when he saw Sean walking toward it as well.

The noise of the production had faded as evening came on. Though the heat was no less, the freedom of being a boy again and not a hobbit made him feel cool and light and he nearly danced through the fields. Sean had caught sight of him and waved, but neither had spoken. He'd slowed, and they had walked to the water's edge together.

Elijah had kicked off his sandals and waded in. "It's great," he said, very softly, hesitant to break the silence. "Brilliant." He looked up and smiled at Sean. "Come on, come in."

Sean was wearing low boots and socks, but he balanced on one leg like an oversized stork and unlaced them, pried first his right and then the left boot off, peeling off his socks, and splashing in. "Oh, god," he sighed. When he was ankle deep, he stopped and stretched, raising his arms high above his head. "Look," he said, pointing.

Elijah obediently tipped his head back and saw the first star of the evening flare out. He had no idea what it could be; the stars were all wrong here, nothing like at home. After a moment, he turned and faced the lake, looking across it. The low hills surrounding it were disappearing into the night, and soon he saw reflections of the exotic stars shivering in the water.

Impulsively, he pulled off his tee shirt and tossed it on shore, then, balancing as Sean had, climbed out of his shorts and underwear. "What are you doing?" Sean asked, scandal filling his voice.

Elijah just grinned at him. "Come _on_," he said, and walked deeper into the lake.

"Elijah! Lij! Dammit." He heard Sean undressing behind him and looked over his shoulder. "When I catch you . . . " Sean said, but left the threat hanging.

"Oh, so you can catch me?" He knelt into the water, shivering as it touched his balls, and then lay full length in it, rolling onto his back. There was a bit of a drop off, so a few further feet out he was able to float, staring up at the darkening sky.

Sean splashed after him, awkward and embarrassed. "God, it feels good," he said when he was thigh deep, and then he struck out, swimming in circles around Elijah. "Gorgeous," he sighed, and splashed Elijah, who giggled again, but he was too tired for a water fight.

Eventually Sean rolled onto his back and together they floated. Elijah could hear cars pulling away and saw lights going out. Soon they'd be the only ones left; everyone would think they had already gone. He smiled.

"It's so beautiful here," Sean whispered. "I've never seen anything like this, never done anything like this."

"Me, neither," Elijah whispered back. It was growing dark now; the stars were filling the southern sky. He stared intently at them, and then at Sean's profile next to him, the water shimmering around him like an aura of silver light. He needed to remember this moment. He would need this moment someday.

And that day had come. Crouched in a men's room, huddled next to Sean, he whispered his memories to Sean. Sean rested his hand on Elijah's head, slowing massaging his scalp and running his fingers through Elijah's hair. He nodded, and added an occasional grace note of his own. "There was no moon, remember? That's why the stars were so bright, and so many."

"They were in the water, too, remember?" Elijah said, and rested his head on Sean's knee. He gave up and sat on the floor, hoping it had been cleaned in anticipation of the premiere. What did it matter, anyway; the trousers would dry clean. "And the fish, they were kissing the water."

"Viggo would have caught a dozen that night," Sean agreed. "One brushed your leg, remember?"

Elijah laughed softly. "Scared the pee outta me."

"You peed in the lake?" Sean asked, sounding shocked, and they laughed again. "I did, too." Elijah lifted his head and they made faces at each other, smiling in recollection. "It was good," Sean said in amazement. "It was a good moment."

"There were lots of good moments," Elijah said, resting his hand on top of Sean's. "Lots. You have to hang on to them. Even this; isn't this a good moment?"

Sean looked down at him, tears in his eyes again, but he was smiling, the smile that Elijah loved so much. "Yeah," Sean said, barely audibly. "It's a great moment. The best moment."

Impulsively, Elijah knelt up and kissed Sean. Sean put his big hands around Elijah's head and held him gently, kissing him back, while Elijah rested his hands on Sean's knees, straining upward. He tasted the same as he had that day in the forest, and Elijah wanted to remind Sean of that day, too, another good day to cling to, to never let go, but kissing was better than talking, he knew that.

They kissed until Elijah's lips were buzzing and felt swollen. "You are so lovely," Sean told him. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You don't have to do without me," Elijah told him very seriously, knowing what Sean feared. "Friends forever, remember?"

"Forever," Sean said, but Elijah could see he didn't believe it.

"Listen, asshole," he said firmly, staring Sean straight in the eyes. "I love you."

Sean stared back, and then his eyes dropped to Elijah's mouth and Elijah kissed him again, full of confidence and promise.

This time when they parted, Sean said, "We have to get back."

Elijah nodded. They did. Back into the throngs of excited, happy people, people who made his life possible, people he was grateful to and for. He really was. He just needed -- he just needed this moment.

He stood, brushing his knees and butt, then extended a hand to Sean. "Let's go," he said.

For a moment they stood there, in the stall in the men's room, their hands linked. Elijah remembered their swim, watching the night swell around them, the night birds and bats coming out, the fish rising to feed, a night breeze sighing through the surrounding fields and rippling across the water, and he and Sean surrounded by it all, by all of New Zealand, by all of the world, and yet just the two of them, as alone as Frodo and Sam had ever been.

Then he opened the door to the stall and let the present rush in.

~ ~ ~

_Epilog_

Elijah stood, smoothing the crease in the faded polaroid. Viggo had taken it; he remembered that much, one of the thousands he'd taken in New Zealand all those years ago. All the cast and many of the crew had some of Vig's pictures. Elijah knew he had a shoebox full, plus the videos Orlando had taken, pictures Dom had scrawled on trashed pages of the continually-revised script, even delightful sketches by Alan Lee, and one by John Howe of a horrifyingly-fierce Frodo transformed into a Ring Lord.

But this hadn't been in the shoebox, or tucked into the scrapbook his mom had put together for him with Hannah's help, or scanned and stored as a jpg on his harddrive. This had fallen out of a book of poetry when he'd been sorting books: one pile to take to New York and a much larger pile to leave in LA.

He stared intently at it. Viggo had taken it, he was sure. The background was blurry, but somewhere on location. It looked like Rohan, but that was impossible; Frodo and Sam weren't seen in Rohan in the movies, only passing through on the way home as illustrated on a map. Not only was the background blurry, there were streaks of light, or maybe the image had faded that much.

He brought it nearer his face, finally lifting his glasses to his head so he could peer more closely at it. There was a slight chemical smell overlaid with dust, and he sneezed. Wiping the photo on his shirttail, he studied it more. Another world, all that had been, as if they'd really gone to Middle Earth.

He and Sean were sitting together. They'd been unaware of Vig's camera. In the picture, Elijah was leaning against Sean's shoulder, his head tilted, his eyes closed. Sean was looking at him, a little cross-eyed because he was so close, but the tender expression of love on his face moved Elijah deeply. He stroked Sean's face in the photo, smiling to himself. "Hey," he whispered.

He sighed and shoved the picture into his back pocket. He didn't want this one to get lost again. Maybe he'd put it in his mom's scrapbook, or maybe keep it in his wallet. Maybe he'd even frame it, to remind him of everything that had slipped away. I was such a kid, he thought, and returned to his packing.

"Knock, knock," Sean said, and Elijah looked up from where he knelt on the floor, taping up boxes.

"Hey."

"Hey." Sean walked over and squatted, holding the flaps of the box in place so Elijah could more easily tape them shut. "You look nearly ready."

"Just about." He cut the tape and set down the dispenser. "Thanks. I figure another half dozen and I'll be through. Anything beyond that can stay here."

Sean nodded but didn't say anything. He was smiling at Elijah, who was reminded of the look on Sean's face in the photo he'd found. He stretched out his hand and touched Sean's face, tracing his lightly bearded jawline. "I like the fuzz."

"Not jealous?" Sean asked.

"Fuck you." Elijah stroked his own minimalist facial hair. "Maybe a little."

"I think you should lose it. But I like the hair."

"Don't touch it!" Elijah cried, ducking away from Sean's hand. "Took me forever to get it right." They smiled at each other, sitting on the dusty floor surrounded by boxes and suitcases.

"I'll miss you so much," Sean said at last.

"Sean, you'll be out in a week, remember?"

"To help decorate, yeah. I'm ordered to report back to your mom, by the way."

Elijah rolled his eyes. "We'll do a good job."

"We always do," Sean agreed. He stood up, dusting his knees, and extended a hand to Elijah, hauling him up so forcefully he nearly leapt from the floor. "Let's finish up so we can get outta here."

"Where we going?"

"Dom and Mack are dropping by and then we're going out to dinner. Celebrate your last night in LA by getting you drunk. You'll be in great shape when the movers come tomorrow."

"That's what friends are for," Elijah agreed happily. He'd expected no less, but it was still rewarding. Maybe they'd go to that little place on the beach that Viggo had shown them. Sit with their feet in the sand and watch the sun sink into the Pacific for Elijah's last time. Who knew when he'd be back?

Before Sean could start on another box, Elijah wrapped his arms around him, burying his face into Sean's shirt. "Hey," Sean said softly, but his arms came around Elijah, holding him firmly, and he rested his face in Elijah's neck. Elijah felt Sean's breath, moist and warm, and then a soft and secret kiss. "Love you so much," Sean whispered almost soundlessly.

Elijah closed his eyes with happiness and held on tight. He knew he'd need this moment someday, a moment to remember when things were cold and hard and scary and dark. Sean's arms around him, his love a physical presence in Elijah's life -- absence was no longer really absence for them. Not after everything they'd survived. They'd made a movie, yes, but they'd made so much more. "So much more," Elijah murmured, and laughed.

Sean laughed, too.

_ (an empty water glass is no less empty than a universe full of nothing) -- the desk is under the pencil. --Gary Snyder_

* * *

Posted June 1, 2007


End file.
